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Word Life Mum Life Fit For Life Living With Rhuematoid Arthritis

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Word Life Mum Life
Fit For Life Living With Rhuematoid Arthritis
erickawaller.com logo
Word Life Mum Life
Fit For Life Living With Rhuematoid Arthritis

My middle daughter is eight. She wanted a butterfly cake – it was a beautiful thing, all green and yellow and glittery. I didn’t bake it (more on that later).I got a professional to craft it and proudly presented it to the kids, candles glowing, tears of nostalgia in my eyes as we sang to our beautiful Daisy-girl.

The husband got out his camera to take a photo, at the exact moment our youngest daughter picked the pink wormy icing-caterpillar off the middle of it
and bit it in half.

“Mum!” Daisy shouted, outraged and horrified, “Bliss has bitten the willy off.”

There was no willy on the cake I made. I found a recipe on Twitter for an 'easy' chocolate-banana loaf. I followed the recipe to the letter and ended up with a heavy burnt brick, which I took along to lunch at a friend’s house.

After the delicious lunch she made, I gamely hacked into the ‘loaf’ and dropped a slab on her plate. I need to say at this point, I did only use a pinch of salt, but I only had pink Himalayan crystals to hand. Forget chocolate and banana. All you could taste was sodium and chloride.

My lovely friend Pam gamely tried to solider on through a second bite, but I stopped her. “Don’t do it” I gasped as the salt crystal soaked up the last of my mouth’s moisture. “It’s lovely” she croaked back “I just need……. water.” She went to the sink and downed two pints before girding her loins for another go.

Salty tears of shame filled my eyes as I watched my darling friend determined to be polite.

I grabbed the plate away at the last minute and marched it over to the bin. She flapped her hands in protest, still unable to do more then croak. I decided then and there I’m never baking a cake for anyone again, unless I don’t like them.

I’m still recovering from my book launch on Saturday night. How sad is that, when I don’t even drink. All I did was some barefoot dancing and I’m still hobbling five days later. The worst thing about having a party is the fear no-one will turn up. The best thing about having a party is you get to pick the music and dance like no-one’s watching, which they aren’t, because no one turned up.

Ok, that’s not entirely true, people did turn up but there was a moment when me and Billy Idol were both dancing with ourselves uh-uh-oh.

As the evening wore on and people oiled themselves with gin, the dance floor began to fill up. At one time, three people were on there with me, throwing shapes, wiping their feet on the rhythm rug – then my phone rang, which I was using to stream my music through and the whole party came crashing to a halt.

Why do these things happen to me? There’s no need to watch soaps on the TV, I’m living one daily.

  • A brief guide to being British

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    SO IT looks like Cameron has bowed to peer pressure and is going to allow a tiny handful of refugees in. How very kind of him. Pathetic as the number will be, it will no doubt still annoy the 'Who do these immigrants think they are, using our NHS, taking our jobs' brigade (which remind

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  • Homeless rely on the kindness of everyone else

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    I WAS in a charity shop this week. I didn’t need anything; I was just killing time before going for lunch with my pal. A barefoot woman entered. She stumbled against the shelf, and then insulted it. We shoppers immediately all looked the other way. I concentrated hard on the heart-shaped egg-poacher I’d grabbed in

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  • Think twice before posting photos online

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    IT SEEMS to me that when life is looked at through a lens, it is no longer real life.People seem to forget that they are filming actual events and actual people. Twenty-thousand people turned their cameras on to capture the Hawker Hunter’s acrobatic display, but very few stopped filming when it became obvious the plane

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